One of my favourite things about living in the shepherd’s hut was looking out on the rabbits in the morning and evening. I even watched the fox stalking them (and failing).
Rabbits (from Portrait of My Father in an English Landscape, 1998)
The rabbits are about their business
of softening. They congregate in gangs
by hedgerows as if waiting for an event
of greater softness to overtake them.
The cloud overhead grow rabbit scuts
and bolt across the field in evening dress.
The whole sky is purpling with the scent
of evening. A clock opens and shuts
time out. Flowers bend on a single stem
and wind plumps wings to leaves.
(Practising light and shade on a non-real rabbit)